


Blood and Time

by Saturnsdarkness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Miscarriage, Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturnsdarkness/pseuds/Saturnsdarkness
Summary: Hermione gets tortured during the attack on the World Cup. She changes everything.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53
Collections: Twistmas 2019 - A Dark Remix Xmas Fest





	Blood and Time

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Twistmas2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Twistmas2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Antique ornaments

Hello everyone! This is unbetad and I intend to fix that, but for now all mistakes are mine.

I do not own Harry Potter. 

-

Bellatrix Lestange was the last face Hermione remembered after the sigil of the Dark Lord turned the sky a sickening green as compared to the panicking quidditch fans. Pain was the next sensation she registered as she jolted from the St. Mungo's hospital later, quickly thrown back from the restraints on her limbs. 

"We don't know what happened to you. Will you take the veristum?"

She numbly consented. The questions were all too vague for her to recall later, with one summary after the fact:

The bruises, cuts, and aches denoted torture, the deep pain in her lower forearm was definitely carved in the process, and she remembered nothing that wasnt from her dreams.

The train ride into Hogwarts was disassociating for Hermione. The real threat of Voldemort's pending return, as said by Harry, had undisguisable proof on Hermione's arm that there was a social divide. The schools list of yearly expectations seemed trivial.

That brought a strange amount of allies to Hermiones vague "war against wizarding society" (per Rita Skeeter) and protection from other pureblood against other purebloods. Hermione had a hard time telling the difference between a hex directed at her, and a hex that was cast on her behalf by the first frost. 

The triwizward tournament quickly pulled Harry into surving another school year. Ron couldn't help Hermione, but could help Harry, once their fist fight pit both of them in the medical wing. Once the demons were worked out, Ron established that he could not fix Hermione. He explained his intent so badly that he perplexed Hermione into self imposed isolation.

-

She didnt have time to be alone. 

"You need a break, Granger."

Draco appeared over her book in the library. Soon, Hermione's doubt of his sincerity would fade and Draco revealed himself to be selectively chatty. He spoke mostly to her, once he got past Hermiones wall of distrust. She could hold a better conversation than Goyle or Crabb on her worst days. 

Draco shrugged when she asked why he cared, with eyes clearly in a controlled sense of fake nonchalance. 

"Your lesser 2/3rds are too busy to care-"

"Dont say you care Draco. I dont care what else you need to lie about, but if you must, just dont talk to me."

"Fine. Then its settled."

She snapped her book shut. She hadn't had a fight with anyone in a very long time, and had alot to say-

"I'm not going anywhere I don't want to."

"SHHH".

Hermione swept her books into her bag and stalked towards the door. In the back of her thoughts, she considered that Snape would enjoy her flouncing out of a room as he swept into the classroom when he was about to give a pop quiz. 

Draco hurried after her. 

Too conveniently, she stopped at Goyle standing badly at "alert", waiting presumably for Draco. Yet, he looked at her, then looked back down at his basic charms notes, she saw they were upside down.

She spun and met Draco face to face. Her hand up, stopped him from speaking. "I'm not playing this game. Leave me be."

"I'm doing favors for a friend."

Favors meant orders. Hermione knew that much, from mostly illconcieved slytherin based rumors. Oddly enough, those "favors" usually came from the mini Malfoy menace. 

That was how on the next weekend, she found herself in Hogsmead, with Malfoy, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. 

Hermione expected animosity from the dark haired heiress. What she got was an unexpected education on shoes. 

"Draco has been promised to me, in case you're curious".

Ah, thought Hermione, as they waited over butterbeer refills. Stew was next, followed by a package pickup at various places. There were the rich that shopped on public only to defend their status, Pansy explained. The rich of the rich had people shop for them, and Pansy and Draco were two of them.

"Unless you want an arranged marriage, that sounds horrid. I'm sorry."

Pansy decided then that Hermione wasn't a threat. "What's that? That's new." A holiday shop, Hermione surmised. "A second hand one too." Most wizards are hoarders of shiny things, she had observed. 

"I want to see it. Draco! We'll be back."

"O..kay. Bring-"

"No. Just us. We're big witches."

Goyle shadowed the doorway after the girls crunched through the snow and under the bell of the old shop, regardless. No one looked at them among the crowd inside. The shopkeeper was absent. 

"Reminds me of Lovegood''s place."

Hermione filed that bit of information away. The december holidays covered every possible surface while some baubles floated midair. Her parents would have loved this place. 

That painted miniature looked enough like an angel for mom. The Advent calendar would be perfect for dad, provided he could replace the candy from it. Her niece and nephews would love the changing colors of the lights, all by the power of an single wish to santa.

Glass shattered just outside her daydream bubble. 

"Pansy! Are you alright? Your forehead."

The blood on the shorter girls forehead made said girl pale just a little. "It just appeared. I just walked into it."

The little icicle lay in many pieces now near her feet. "Its okay dearies," the shopkeeper appeared. The Leddir heirlooms are difficult like that. Not the first! Wont be the last. The collection was huge, and just dwindled down to nothing after 60 years..." the older woman kept talking as Hermione healed Pansy.

"Episkey. There's more over there.."

The information they were being inundated with started going in one ear and out another as the woman spoke, but it made the atmosphere somehow more magical. Like a grandmother telling tales, a piece in particular spoke to Hermione. "How much for this one?"

Aside from the prismatic crystal, three gold bands circled it at intermittent points. "You actually want to buy that?"

Both women asking Hermione made her "Yes" more sure. 

It glinted across her gryffindor dorm. When she was particularly vindictive, she let the glare just so it fell over the bed of the snobby Van Buren. That was a proud pureblood that Hermione suspected had been sorted wrong. Or right. She couldn't tell nowadays. 

A strong wind shook the tower the night of the Yule ball. Her strange new status hadn't gotten her company so she went by herself. 

Initially anyway. She sat by Ron and Harry, with their dates going down in flame. She felt Ron's eyes boring into her only when she wasn't looking. If he didn't have the courage to ask her, she wouldn't beg him to dance. 

Again, Draco appeared in her vision. "Dance, Granger? Pansy is freshening up."

Bemused, Hermione stood. "Sure. If you're trying to prove I don't bite, you probably aren't the best choice for a first dance."

Draco clicked his tongue. "Well, then my friend's request is going better than expected, isnt it?" He took the gold star for rendering Hermione speechless. 

She learned things that night. Crabbe quoted broken Shakespeare without knowing the source. Goyle was an unexpectedly good dancer (probably due to the 3rd best duelist in Slytherin house. Combat was a dance, Lockhart said.) Nott didn't surprise her, asking casually about her O.W.L prep.

After a shockingly bad dance from Zambini, Pansy saved her. "He has other skills," she laughed as Hermione blushed quickly.

Her voice was hoarse after the Wyrd Sisters took over, ending it all with a slow dance. Harry had disappeared. Ron looked between Hermione and Lavender, and jumped to bring the blonde a punch refill before they cleaned up. 

Victor Krum cleared his throat once he held out his hand. "Would you dance?" They were friends, sorta. He looked at her guiltily, and was reluctant to get too close to her until she spied a wierd run in between Draco and Karkaroff. The bright pink blush on the back of Dracos neck and equivalent of "You're doing well, my boy!" made her suspect a family connection. 

Specifically he was his godfather. Soon Victor and Hermione studied together. Hermione introduced him to 4th year Gryffindor, Parkins. They knew each other from before, and adored quiddich. 

He was around her less frequently as the tournament continued, but always at one meal a day. Draco, Goyle, and Crabbe walking by Hermione and Krum by the lake with a cordial nod made something click. "He's approved you to escort me places."

"I volunteered", heavy on the v. 

"I'm not a precious item, nor lady, nor anything but a scarred muggleborn. This is ridiculous." She huffed on the way off the grass. 

"You aren't a Lady, yet."

After the day by the lake, Hermione had been too busy to over analyze. Harry wanted to try to win the cup now, even if he would fail, but it wouldn't be because Hermione refused to help. Pansy was terrible at transfiguration, and wanted to improve quickly. "My fashion industry, think of it…"

It struck her during a study group that their placement was constant. Draco to her right, Nott to her left, Pansy by Draco, and a handful of other purebloods who didn't find her a piranha sat between her, and Crabbe and Goyle nearest the door. They were the first in, and last out. Draco stood until Hermione sat. 

Krum was an occasional visitor, with a handful of bulgarians and a beaubuton quietly kept to herself. 

It felt like a conference, not a study session as the year passed. This last dance with Krum felt like a….plea.

"Please remember that the Krum family has been loyal since his absence."

Hermione stood in front of her mirror, 4th back to the dorm that night. She was careful to not let her accessories klink, to not wake her roommates. Travers lazily rolled over to whisper at her. 

"They are afraid of you."

Hermione turned towards Eve. "Why?"

Eve shrugged. "No idea. Slytherins don't have friends, they have loyalties. And something is making them think you're worth it. Congrats, you have followers."

Hermione signed as Travers resumed snoring. A wind shook the tower and sent an unnatural prismatic spray around the room. It was cold from being near the window. Another wind cause her to squeeze as she illogically braced. The crystal tip shattered into her hand. 

"Ow. Damn it, it broke." She brushed the shiny gold forlornly. Her bloody finger made the gold shine darkly. Her world shifted sideways and popped out of existence. 

Eve Travers sighed heavily. Finally. Her father had inquired so many times by now, going as far as to insinuate that she no longer felt loyalty to their Dark Lord. She scribbled on some parchment before finding her shoes. She had an owl to send.

-

Hermione hit the snow hard enough to wonder if Van Buren finally decided to do something about her. The snow shocked her out of her daze. The periwinkle blue became darker where her body heat melted in the snow. 

Soon, the cold reached her bare arms. Carriages with thestrals, petite abraxans, and horses were waiting patiently for their riders while old timey string orchestras played out of the hallway to the Greathall. Hermione was crashing a gala, and she honestly couldn't tell how recently this had happened. 

The great gold seals of the Ministry covered the doors of most of the carriages. This was a ministry gala. Hogwarts, a history informed her the last Ministry officiated gala was in 1941. The second to last Triwizard tournament resulted in 2 deaths, none of them participants. 

Three sets of crunching footsteps and matching nondescript ministry security faces faded into her field of vision. 

"Ma'am? Are you okay?"

"Where's her mask?"

"Is she on the guest list?" This one had red hair, Hermione noted. Weasley red. Ministry ran in their family after all. 

"Gentleman, find her a cloak! I have her mask. I do apologize, I never told you I have a plus one for this. Granger, Hermione. No relation to the seat holder. Take my hand-,"

"No, no!," another voice entered the fray. A fifth voice, a woman,'s. "Do not move her. I will take her to the infirmary. Then you can get her Mr. Riddle. Wait for my memo."

The healer was a kind woman, yet Hermione spoke minimally. Riddle being involved changed everything that she thought she could handle. 

"Your mask, miss. You're much too young for that Ma'am nonsense. These are my gloves, I'm assuming you left yours somewhere near home. Your portkey messed up badly. Lucky you didnt splinch."

Hermione smiled awkwardly. "Thank you, Healer Reily. The hall is which way?"

Students or Ministry adults, they were all warm bodies pressed against each other on a crowded dance floor. Chaperons for the rich watched from the sidelines intent on their charges. Meanwhile, Hermione couldn't help but suspect she was wearing a future death eaters mask. No matter how ornate it was. 

In fact, many were already wearing ornate silver. Those same people parted when she saw a Malfoy, a Parkinson, and Tom Riddle himself before retaking the space.

His conquests had started earlier than she thought. "I thought you had declined and didn't owl in time. Come, my dear."

Hermione wasn't used to being speechless. She also wasn't used to going back 50 odd years for no reason. She met Abraxus Malfoy then, and and Patricia Parkinson, engaged to Thomas Greengrass upon graduation of 7th year. Goyle and Nott Senior, first names not introduced, led her to the few others of minimal importance. 

Riddle stopped socializing enough to dance with her occasionally. "You found the time key. On a very important night, it would appear. How was your trip?"

"It was fine. Why did you know I was coming?"

"Because I planned it. Punch?"

Patricia went to the powder room with her, seemingly chatty and oh so willing to share her lipstick. Abraxus waited for her once Hermione took too long for Patricia. 

"My mother also appreciates her refreshing time. My father taught me to be patient." Hermione wasn't surprised she hadn't been alone so far. That had been her life before. 

"He told you to stay with me."

"Not me, specifically, my Lady. But I can converse much better than the other two."

Abraxus studied her with his grey blue eyes, taking in her strange attire. 

"Ask what you will before I come to my senses." 

"I imagine you're a gryffindor."

"I don't know, actually." Hermione realized she needed a lie. "My private boarding school is in France. Can't really divide 12 students properly. What would you suggest?"

Tom studied his second in command, taller and broader than his guest. She was holding her own, the one who would be his downfall. That's what the old crone told him before he disposed of her at least. 

The child that lived, also foretold by the late Crone, would be a bump in the road as told per the prophecy. The mad witch by his side would betray him, but the strange girl out of time would change everything. 

So he set up just that, so it would change exactly the way he wanted it to. 

"Thank you Malfoy. I'll take our lovely Lady from here." The masked Tom Riddle was still a sight to appreciate in formal robes, strong from quidditch, and confident in his charm. 

Hermione was this close to being sick of his shit. 

But she wanted to do so to his face. She had no plan yet. He needed to give her information that he would absolutely share in his overconfidence. 

Then she could plan. 

Until then, she would match him touch for touch, and tone for tone. 

In full confidence, she took tea from the house elf in Headmaster Dippetts office in the very early morning after the ball had settled. Tom offered to escort her and waited outside. Professor Dumbledor joined them.

"You fell from the sky miss-"

"Granger, sir, and Yes."

"Most of our transfers from-Le Colline?"

"Oui. I'm adopted, and my parents wanted near seclusion from unsavory environments."

"Well, they either way at least owl first. Would you like to transfer? This discussion could normally wait, yet I feel obligated to give you a place to sleep. Our sorting is permanent here. We also would need permission from your guardians." 

Dumbledor stepped forward from the wall. He hadn't yet stopped trying to study her. What was her connection to Riddle?

"I will see about that," she lied. She had an idea, but that hinge entirely on what Tom wanted with her.

"One of our spare rooms have been converted sir. Gryffindor has plenty of space, but it is loud tonight." That is where Hermione would make herself end up. She needed to speak to Tom Riddle urgently. 

"I'd like to end there, eventually, however my late arrival meant a very short time with Tom tonight. He had my trunk sent to him."

Dippett nodded to each of them. "I've word the dungeons coordinator has already began preparing a suite. Given the unorthodox arrival, would you be comfortable for the night in the dungeons?"

"Yes, thank you. May I have a pass tomorrow for the train? Unfortunately, my wand broke as I fell."

Tom was waiting for her in the slytherin common room. He was too tired to fake charming. The darkness and the green overwhelmed Hermione first, then she saw his face. History didn't do his handsomeness justice. 

He didn't care that she was blushing. "Come on. I've kicked them out of the dorm."

Hermione snorted. "What?", he almost snarled. 

"I'm surprised you haven't finagled a single room for yourself." Pride puffed his weary shoulders back up.

"I'll be a prefect next year. I've been guaranteed first choice. I'm glad to see my influence has been over exaggerated however. More tea? Or firewhisky?"

Hermione's dress was starting to get to her. She also had a very real problem with having nothing on her person and in her opinion, kept her wits about her very much. 

"While you were with Dippet, some donations were gathered regarding your state of dress."

"Tom Riddle, Jr."

His gaze fell on a fed up witch. The bastard was amused.

"Let it be known I could probably get myself home without your interference. Or die, and that may actually encourage the boys to finish their assignments in a timely manner so they werent expelled. But, you brought me back for a reason. Why did you bring me back?"

Hermione refused to back down as he walked towards her. 

"Here's your tea. I could kill you, you're right."

Hermione frowned. With a very small space between their bodies, she sipped her tea. 

"But I'd rather you replace the mad witch and only strengthen my hold on the wizarding world. I gather by the way that you've spoken to Malfoy, and dealt with the others, you will."

The curfew clock tower rang. It was later to accommodate the gala. "I'd suggest you move so o can let you be for the night, Riddle."

He stayed 2 seconds past her nervous gulp that she failed to suppress. 

"Tomorrow we will go to Olivander for your wand," he spoke to her back. 

"Dippett already gave me a train pass. I'm getting sorted tomorrow."

"Yet you misunderstand. He will come to Hogsmeade. Might even be nice to look at."

Hermione suppressed the daydream if Bellatrix dying at her feet. She set the tea cup down with a sharp clink. "Oh, I need you to falsify some transfer papers from La Colline. That is, if you actually want me to stick around on your terms." 

In a same life, 70 years or so in the past, Hermione was surrounded by a handful of slytherins, and a strangely eager hufflepuff. 

"Pettigrew, got to the Two Cups. Reserve our table." Tom looked around the central square, bored. But distracted. He was looking for something. 

"Three broomsticks doesn't cater to students," Hermione corrected. Long had the golden trio tried, and only succeeded after 3 months of going every weekend. She took in the change in buildings. The people reminded her much if the same. The buildings were timeless under a blanket of snow. 

Students started getting petrified and curfew was restricted. She hadn't been there as a trio since. 

"It does if you go with the right people, Ms. Granger. 

"Abraxus, I understand given names, but I insist you call me Hermione."

She met his gaze in one sided defiance. He hadn't yet done anything to her, but his kin would. Hermione masked the challenge with a polite smile.

"Be nice, Granger."

He offered his arm to Hermione, as Abraxus offered his to Patrica. Thomas had unavoidable detention from Dumbledore. Goyle and Crabbe remained behind and next to all of them.

"I imagine this is the first time seeing Hogsmead, Hermione. It must not compare to France."

Hermione shook her head. "Each place has their charm. I've seen too little of the charm here to properly say I'm familiar however."

"Olivander has spent most of his morning here now." Hermione looked towards Tom, his smirk true to meaning. 

She had made an ass of herself, bundling to Diagon Alley, and arriving realizing she had no coin of any kind. Abraxus' mother recognized her from the Ministry function and sent her back with a indian silk scarf that was 'far better than what Hogwarts gave ' and some 'pocket change' to get a frog on the way home. 

Hermione could easily acquire every 4th year supply now and still have some left for her train ride home. That location was to be determined in and of itself. 

That had not gotten her a wand however. Olivander was due in at an appointment with a special guest at Hogsmeade, and his assistant was unable to help someone of Hermione's caliber. 

"We could have had breakfast, but supper is good enough," Tom continued the guilt trip. He pulled her closer to bump her shoulder. She eyed him with half hearted malice. 

"Two Cups has the best stew. I don't ask why," Goyle mentioned. "They only start serving it early afternoon."

Hermione snorted. Of course that was Goyle Seniors' expertise. 

True to expectations, the stew was the second most comforting thing that entire day. 

The first was the crow that volunteered to be her pet. The crow had a mate, both perched just outside Two Cups. 

Aristocratic, deep laughs erupted from Abraxas as Goyle and Crabbe Sr tried their hardest to stifle theirs. The two black birds descended between them, wings buffering Tom and Hermione. Claws pulled off Hermione's hood while they dragged at Tom's scarf. 

Hermione found safety with her face against Toms chest. He pulled her against him, and pulled his wand from his sleeve.

"Immobilus!"

Tom's fingers got tangled in Hermione's curls. They both took a breath as their-his friends. Where they her friends now, so quickly?

Hermione smiled despite it all, at the four friendly faces around them. She looked up at Tom. Beneath his brief amusement, his eyes glittered darkly. 

"They're already afraid of you, Riddle. You'll have a use for them." She meant it as a plea. Killing off 3 of his minions would work wonderful overall but-but…not them. Not yet. They were innocent yet.

Tom's eyes narrowed down at her. "I dont know how you know that, but you may prove right." 

"I suppose you found your Phobos, Hermione. You are so horribly scratched," the comforting tone interrupted Hermione and Tom's stare down. Hermione let Patrica straighten her curls as the small, dark haired woman cut into the group of boys. 

Tom's hand lingered on Hermione's back. "Or her Diemos, judging by the way she hid," Abraxus teased. Tom's fingers curled against the fabric of her cloak. 

Nervously, everyone at some point looked towards Tom with his serious gaze. Hermione was an easier-no-safer target to tease. "They'll be free soon. Let's get Hermione her wand before they decide to resume their attack."

Olivander had fewer wrinkles than in Hermione's first year. He flicked his gaze between her and Tom, uncertain. "Madam Malfoy told me this was a favor for her son."

"And she is my friend in need of a wand, Sir. Nothing more. Nothing else." The wandmaker directed his gaze to his case. This was a house that Tom felt confident enough to stride up to and Abraxus had a key for. The furnishings were functional at best, but the wood was solid. 

"So, Ms,-?"

"Hermione sir. My wand was vine, 10 and..1/4s. It had a dragon heartstring core."

"Sit. Let me sort these. Where are from?" 

Hermione told her fabricated tale, her relation to Tom, her fake american grandmother. Behind her, Abraxus and Tom lingered while everyone else waited outside. 

"That's not too much to stop a marriage, Tom."

Tom rolled his eyes. "That's not a factor I've considered."

Abraxus grinned. "So you have factors. I can work with that."

A large spark and burst of violent colors filled the room with smoke. "Its strange, Ms. Granger. This one is just a little bit longer." Hermione nursed her burned hand as she stared at the wand, her actual wand rather than the one she lied about, that was no longer hers. 

"Well, let's try this. Same core. Walnut, 12 and 3/4s. It has rejected everyone so far. Leaves them with a similar burn-"

"My family is paying you Olivader. I suggest you do nothing to harm her," Abraxus loomed behind Hermione. 

"I'm okay Abraxus. Thank you. Olivander, may I see it?" Hermione picked up the curved wand with grim determination. Wry amusement curled her lips as green, serpentine-like smoke chased them out of the building. 

'Aw's an 'ah's were drawn out as it danced in the sky over Hogsmeade. Some ran inside buildings and screamed. In the middle of it all, Tom stood, with bright eyes to the sky. 

Phobos and Diemos were waiting for them on the bridge back to Hogwarts, once Tom pulled himself away from the chaos. 

Phobos and Diemos circled Hermione when Tom ran to catch up with them. 

The following day, Hermione met Headmaster Dippett in his office to finalize paperwork.

"You can only have one pet. And not a crow, either, according to the rules Miss Granger." She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm aware of the rules Sir, but tell them that." Outside his window, the two birds preened. 

"I suppose you couldn't have done anything to them, this fast, at your year. We cannot argue against nature. We'll tag two perches in the Owlry later. Now, to your sorting. And perhaps some uniforms that are yours?"

Hermione shrugged. "They were offered freely. My portkey adventure didn't leave me too much time to pack."

"Your grandmother was quick to transfer you, miss. Was everything okay at home?" Hermione hoped that Dippett was speaking purely from concern, but she couldn't shake that he was hiding something.

"My late parents took her from a comfortable American estate. She always spoke about going home once a reputable location would take me in." Dippett nodded her Hermione's lie. 

"She knew Mr. Riddle Sr? How so?" Hermione blinked, and smiled slowly. What had Tom said? "Godparent. My parents made a poor choice, but I at least got to know Riddle from it all."

The middle aged wizard looked up, amused. "He must like you. He prefers Tom for everyone else." Hermione chuckled, looking down into her lap. If she disregarded the small differences in her borrowed uniform from her original, she might think that she was exactly in the same space, in the correct year. Her stomach reminded her that she had skipped breakfast.

Tom was that reason. 

"Hermione, there's a very handsome slytherin waiting for you outside the Fat Lady." 

Hermione's dorm host, Calli Grimaldi, smiled mischievously from under her golden spiral curls. She was the newest gryffindor prefect. Hermione wondered if she and Calli would be prefects together, next year.

"Who? Ri-Tom?"

Hermione also was trying her hardest to catch up on a very old fashioned curriculum. If she understood correctly, her first class on monday would be Magical Estates. All of this, according to the forward, was "incase one couldn't have more than one house elf". 

Calli politely stifled her smirk. "I see you also have fallen for his charm." A very tall, straight bodied redhead descended the stairs from the same dorm room. "Calli, you don't stand a chance. Rumor is that Tom and Hermione will be married at the end of 7th year."

"Shush Mary Winsor. We all can't be introduced to dukes and earls. Go see him, before he charms his way through the Fat Lady."

Hermione rolled her eyes and clutched her spellbook, 4th year, to her chest. She stepped out of the portrait. Tom leaned against the wall, studying something of his own.

"If I were a head boy, I wouldn't have to wait for you girls to stop gabbing."

"Then I'd be head girl, and those fighting over you would have already left the kingdom to us."

Hermione enjoyed her analogy, but it occurred to her that he meant his agreement far too literally.

"Let us get to 5th year as prefects and re-evaluate our strategy. Let's walk."

They drew little attention beyond carrying study materials with them on a weekend. There was a week before names would be drawn for the triwizard tournament. Hermione was already dreading the ordeal.

"Are you putting your name in the cup?" Hermione was doing more than conversation. The future Lord Voldemort winning the triwizard tournament would be a frustratingly similarity to the tournament she left behind. 

"Why are you worried if I did? No one has died from them." Hermione tried to hide her confusion under concerned thoughts. Tom studied her. "The ministry might try. They care little for our education of useful skills. Would rather kill us with an angry Griffin herd than teach us defensive charms."

"So you caught up on your reading."

"It was a sham, and I immediately read the year 4 spellbook to wash that nonsense out." 

"Wait until 5th year. They will be preparing you for marriage." 

Hermione stopped short.

"I thought we got to specialize. Wandless, and the like." Her angry gaze leveled at a spot in the floor. "Not for women, usually, unless they are in the top 2%. The rest prepare for more mundane activities, like children. All the boys will get first choice, top girls next." Tom's amusement at Hermione's frustration was once again evident.

"I have to go." She straightened her shoulders and set her head back up. There were lots of things she could tolerate, but being holed up in one social expectation wasn't one of them. "Hermione, wait up", Tom laughed.

"I thought you wanted you-know-who at your disposal." Hermione self consciously itched at her arm. Tom's glance flitted from her hand to her pulling her sleeve back down. 

"I can multitask. I have a plan for that too."

Tom was comfortably quiet until they were back by the gryffindor tower. "Where do you want to end up? When you get sorted?" 

Hermione huffed proudly. "Gryffindor. If nothing else, because of my temper." Tom took Hermione's hand and pulled her closer. "You'll end up in slytherin." He leaned in close enough to whisper. "And like it, eventually." Hermione turned her head ever so much, so they were closer. "What if I do? What do I get out of it." A smile tempted across her lips. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

"My company, of a solitary nature. Wherever you want me."

"Hm?" Hermione took back her hand, clutching her book. "I didn't know you traveled without your minions Riddle. I kinda want to see this now."

Hermione had been so focused on reading she skipped the meal entirely. Tom nor herself had been discreet, so of course Calli and Mary Winsor were waiting for her, expectantly. She had to banish herself to a single chair in a corner and was almost late to meet Dippett. 

The sorting hat taunted Hermione. She had options, and none of them perfect. There wasn't time for her to properly plan, but she read once that it was better to keep your enemies close. 

"Are you ready Ms. Granger?" Hermione nodded. With her eyes closed, she could tell the hat had that strange musky smell early on. She hadn't wanted to remember that

Miss Hermione Jean Granger. You're late.

You know as much as I do. Gryffindor please. 

Patience! Patience. You have plans. 

My plans are irrelevant. I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm doing it anyway. 

But your plans! You have to-

Say nothing. What do I need to tell you? Gryffindor. Reckless, brave supposedly. 

Fine, child. How far will you go? Will you stop the problem before it starts? Before you were carved into like meat?

I dont have that answer. He won't hurt me but I can't count on that.

You need to play nice. Subtle. Cunning. 

I will ruin the mad witch and get home.

You need to survive the mad witch first.

"Slytherin!"

Before the door of the Great Hall, Hermione straightened her new, green lined robes. Her skirt was a proper length now, Hermione being of an age when women were larger and taller. She made an effort to contain her hair into a knot, better secured with a cloth headband. 

Quick glance around the great hall found Tom already looking at her. His smug smile grew around the biscuit he chewed on. 

Hermione huffed down with no grace and well within Tom's personal space bubble. "So, next Saturday? Biscuit?" Hermione took one and found a tea cup with 1 sugar cube on the saucer. Exactly as she liked it. 

"No. There's an exam that next Monday."

"The week after, then."

"We'll see."

Hermione adjusted quickly enough to the damp dungeons. She had warming charms all the time, and a small lamp charmed to light when she snapped. 

"Where's Tom?" Abraxus pulled his quidditch bag up on his shoulder. Crabb and Goyle weren't far behind. "He went down to the pitch earlier."

"Have you got beyond chapter 5? The recipes?" Goyle's questions were not common, so Hermione actually put down her text. "I did. They are boring. The essay is due in a month, so I've started some of it."

"After the victory party, look at mine. I changed the boring parts."

She internally scoffed. Students didn't know more than the educational sources the ministry set forth. Regardless, "Sounds good. Good luck boys!"

"One day you should watch a game Hermione. Tom would appreciate that."

Hermione snorted. "One day there won't be a match in the same week as an exam."

She looked back down but didn't stop listening. 

"Its talent really. He stays our best seeker, and still is our best student…"

The boys disappeared behind the stone wall entrance. Her pride nagged her while she reread the same line 10 times. The book thudded on the floor as she put it in her bag. 

Fine. She'd study while she froze. 

Her last quiddich game hadn't gone well, but Hermione tried. She really tried. Tom caught the snitch, and Hermione was standing. She noticed every teacher who was present. The crowd was loud, on her side at least. Her nose felt cold. She tasted the little but of bacon that her toothbrush had missed. Her bag was rough. It was a strange canvas versus a leather one before.

Hermione stood in the walk way as Tom hovered on his broom in front of her. The crowd faded into background noise as he spoke. 

"Go. It's okay. " Hermione nodded quickly and fled. 

The dorms prevented boys from going to the girls side, but not girls going in the boys side. Mary and Calli surrounded her bed. Their red accessories stuck out against all of the green.

"Staring at a wall wont help you. We have food down stairs courtesy of the house elves," Callie held out Hermione's sweater. It was too dark to see Hermiones scar in the dark dorms. That was the only place she felt safe without long sleeves. 

"Theres drink, the detention worthy kind and not, and a very bored star seeker. The heads are even down there standing guard." Mary pulled Hermione to her feet. "Go get Patricia? Hermione looks like a mess. We mustn't look like a mess even if we are."

Patricia came in with her "fix it" box and a hum. "Come on dear. Get up. Hand me her sweater please?" She twisted Hermione's hair back like only someone who had patience could. "Uniforms aren't required after classes. This is better. And warmer too. If you get sick, Merlin knows Tom would be a nightmare." Patrica looked at the other two purebloods. "Can you get her a drink? She'll be down in a minute."

Alone, Patricia took Hermione by the chin and forced her to look up. "Look at me." Hermione blinked up. "I don't know what you went through. I don't know who did that to you," she flipped over Hermione's wrist. 

"But there is something scarier down in that room and you're the first human he has warmed up to. He killed my mother just because she used her gift to answer his own question. And somehow, you are an answer to this."

Hermione processed this. "What if I turn into him instead?"

Patrica shrugged. "At least we'll have loved our queen once."

Hermione wanted nothing more than to appear in the common room without notice. Patrica trailed to her right. Calli waited with her drink in hand. 

There wasn't quite a silence, but nods from occasional people as she came down the stairs. "She didn't die everyone, she's just pale. Carry on." Mary's voice snapped people out of a trance like the courts her brother commanded. 

"Stone, move." Abraxus elbowed the kid between him and Tom as Hermione came through. 

Hermione knew few things with confidence, but did know that she had gotten close to Tom. That had uses on many fronts. "Pettigrew, get Hermione a plate. Little bit of everything."

Tom resumed his conversation as his arm settled on the back of the couch. It eventually fell around her shoulders. Abraxus looked over the crowd, mostly bored. 

"I'm so tired. Protecting that-Tom is exhausting to keep up with."

"You don't look forward to that? Imagine that." Hermione waited for his reaction. Guarded. Fake, whatever it was. "Why though? There could be others." Abraxus laughed. 

"What happened that was so terrible at a quidditch match?" It was Hermione's turn to stall. Tom froze his fingers from the tapping on her shoulder. He was listening. "An attack. Terrorists. No harm ultimately, but enough."

Mary emerged from the crowd in a burst of energy. She flung herself on Abraxus' lap. "Hermione! There'll be a girls trip for dresses. There's a new pureblood to the area and he's holding a party."

"Pureblood party? Isn't it enough that we have every ministry affair that our parents deem us to attend?"

"Dont whine Abraxus. You need them more than I do. You do want to properly inherit, right? Hermione will go, Tom'll appreciate that."

Tom adjusted around Hermione. He physically moved her in the process like she was a doll. The end result wasn't wholly uncomfortable, just strange. Possessive even. 

"Will that count as our date, Hermione?" 

"Nope. I will however be seen in public with you, Riddle." 

"Perhaps we'll even dance. It'll be a new trend."

The first triwizard task was in the forest. Anyone who could gathered in the audience zone. 

"Reminds me of a hunt," someone whisperered. "Don't say that so loudly! You know those were banned. They weren't deemed humane." Hermione strained to hear more, but Calli nudged her. "The boys are coming back from roping off the path. Get the tea out?" 

They took volunteers to mark the path. Someone suggested a picnic, and in Hermione's mind, created a nightmare. She had better things to do then recreate finger food, but the faster she got her part done, the sooner she could go back to reading. There was a potions lab test, no books allowed. 

Tom, Abraxus, and several others fell onto the blanket. The snow had been early, but thawed quickly and refrozen. It was now warm enough for thick flakes from the sky. Soon 3 individuals, Hermione hadn't caught their names, but all boys, would be slipping around the forest while managing to not fall into the black lake. 

Hermione cast warming charms most for herself. Tom latched on to also take advantage of it. "The designers could have done anything, and they chose the forest in winter."

"Rumor is the next one is in the lake," Calli commented. "And the last one is the castle itself." Mary finished, like the figures she more and more desperately tried to emulate, sat in fur lined cloak as straight as she possibly could. Between the two of them, nothing was a secret in Hogwarts. 

"Let's be glad none of us got chosen for this circus." Abraxus dug for his warm flask. Hermione doubted there was pumpkin juice in it. 

"I agree, Abraxus. You're warm." Tom scooted closer to Hermione. 

"You also passed that section Riddle. Then we'd be twice as warm."

"But then I wouldn't have an excuse to to do this," he said as he took her hands in his. 

A chip bounced off Riddles forehead and onto Hermione's lap. "Shush love birds. They are announcing the start."

That look Hermione began to associate with the dark beast of Tom Riddle tried to peak through. Hermione slowly went up on her knees. Tom turned his face as he squeezed her hands tighter than before. "I was going to kiss your cheek, but you ruined that."

"That'll make it easier for when I actually kiss you, I suppose."

The challenge of mirroring Tom's social life and managing to beat him in class became a driving force behind Hermiones actions. It distracted her, and distracted him, and stalled as she could figure out where Dumbledore had a time Turner.

All of that meant she had to maintain her grades 200% to get into Dumbledors advanced transfiguration class. 

Tom learned that when he asked one day. Hermione was stressing and forgot to eat all weekend. He showed up with sandwiches. "How do you know he has one?" Hermione didnt have a good answer. "I read it on a limited edition chocolate frog card. It's a kids thing I know-"

"Its more than I have. How does that get the mad witch?" Tom bit into his sandwich. Hermione grumbled. "Because I don't know if she is born yet." Tom poured a glass of water. He concentrated, and muttered. Soon it was steaming. "Here. Your hands are freezing."

"How'd you do that?" Tom summoned a book. "I've been reading. It took a month to create steam. Perhaps you should, too." Hermione narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to retort. "Wait, before you hex me." She settled for a glare. "Purebloods live to overshare, in the name of glory and by accident to protect their secrets." 

"Meaning?"

"Gossip columns, dearest. We will settle a gringotts account for you this summer, but until then I'll have Abraxus help you. His mother loves you, and wants you for the holidays. Would you like to join me?"

Abraxus Malfoy. Related by marriage and Blood to the Noble house of Black. 

"Yes. I'd love to."

Her agreement meant a strange series of events had to happen. 

Abraxus needed convincing. 

"Did my mother give your girlfriend a scarf?"

"Hermione would disagree with that title. But you haven't noticed?"

"Theres been no point to look, among other things. When did they meet?"

"That's something else to ask Hermione. Do you agree or not?" 

Abraxus considered it all, and the possibility that a year ago Tom wouldn't have bothered asking.

"Fine. But I'll give the coins to Patricia and Hermione has to give the final say. Merlin knows she'd have a fit otherwise."

The next free weekend, Calli, Mary, and Patricia rented a room for them all to prepare for the holiday season. Hermione walked away with two new trunks, one entirely for clothing. 

"I'm one person, not an army."

"Nonsense," Patricia disagreed. 

"You have whatever a slughorn party entails, the holiday feast, and the Malfoy Holiday Gala. And for next season, we will need to do this all again." Calli checked off each item off of a literal list, specifically made for Hermione.

"Wait, season? Like summer?" Hermione had no idea where she'd put anything else. 

Mary laughed. "Oh I forget how overwhelming a girls first season is. It doesn't matter with your Tom. Don't worry. Theres more more skin in the summer showing."

A baby kraken was introduced to the black lake for the second challenge. Durmstrang took first. 

Tom and Hermione stood on the edge of the lake in aw afterwards, as they hid in the library discovering what exactly the kraken could do for them. 

"This is a baby still. That means they'll shed." Hermione was too excited. A rare component! And valuable if she couldn't find a use. "And that means all the stock we could need for one lifetime."

It cost them each one weeks of detention and a weekend stay in the infirmary, but they gathered the necessities and took a dive. Bemoaning oxygen deprivation and being slammed against the lake floor, they stumbled into Potions with a victorious cheer from their classmates. 

Wet, cold, and happy, Hermione hugged Tom. 

"She's a girl. She has a body of the expected type," Abraxus offered in no way of help. 

"But I've never quite seen the Hermione variety."

Abraxus counted to 5. "Sweet Merlin, please help them."

Matthias Slughorn required formal robes and invitation. Many of slytherin house were invited, and most pureblood from the other three as well. Some of those who weren't invited helped them get ready, but near all were jealous. 

Hermione didn't want the beading that Calli had, or the fish tailed glamour of Mary. Patricia by far had the least detailing, but Hermione had the most mature design. Silk, ¾ sleeves kept what she wanted covered and still cost more than her 1st year of hogwarts. 

"He's staring." Patricia nudged Hermione towards Tom. In the busy room, full of discussions, Tom kept finding her. 

"He did escort me. It's only natural."

"Mary, it may be time to lock them both in the slytherin supply room."

"Shush Calli. We do not discuss these things in front of them."

The room was over the top in lights, gold and silver. Their food was gold leafed. The arching ceiling I'd Slughorn manor rivaled the great hall. A string orchestra was unnaturally loud, but always in tune. 

And midway, Hermione was through with small talk. "The theory of souls determines that everyone has one, and it is finite." Tom was discussing with a Ministry advisor, loudly. 

Horcrux. Tom was already working on his survival, on some level.

"There is no separation that can be done. Without one is to not be human."

"But you shouted earlier, sir, that you can have pieces of yourself and not equally distributed. What do you define as separation?"

Hermione started speaking without too much thought. Tom listened, and waited for the advisor to even acknowledge Hermione. 

"As I said, there is no-"

"Address Hermione. She spoke. And dare I say, what are the degrees of separation? If I broke into 7 pieces would I know if one were compromised on whatever form?"

"You bring up a good point Mr. Riddle," the advisor but Hermione was not going to be ignored. 

Slughorn had to announcing dancing to break off what Abraxus theorized was going to come down to a duel. 

"I might have to challenge him. For the propriety about it." Tom didn't want to dance, but Abraxus would. He glanced at Mary at every chance he got.

"It's not done Hermione. Not between men and women."

"That's bull." Abraxus should have gotten bets on his friends. He would need a second gringott vault. 

"I will be his boss one day and cheer when he retires." Abraxus laughed. "I will be there to back you up. If anyone can-". Tom decided that it was an appropriate time to cut in. "Take your better half. She's debating taking over the world. May you be very happy together."

"Between watered down classes for women, in which I know because I read the originals, and this 2% nonsense, not even garnering a single glance from a pompous-"

"Hermione, I understand. Can we talk about this later?" She stopped talking, but clearly had more to say. "I'll always be loud, when its unjust-"

"Hermione, let's refresh ourselves." Patricia appeared at her side. Tom pushed her towards the other slytherin girl. "I'll refill our drinks. Go with her. I'll still be here."

Hermione stewed while Patricia powdered the shine off her nose. "I'm not wrong."

"You're not wrong. But you are expected to air these opinions in private moments. Men don't care what we think when they have importance."

"We are equally important."

"But can't run for parliament, nor most positions in the ministry. By speaking them, they can steal your ideas for their own."

"So I should write them."

Patrician set her jar down. Her eyes met Hermiones in the mirror. "I love you Hermione, but this is a dead end for you. Stick to the goal at hand."

"Why is it dead?"

"You're a woman, Hermione."

The implied sense of failure put Hermione in a prickly mood. She pushed her thoughts down to try to calm down as she walked through the crowd. A hand and a squeeze on her behind was the last straw. 

Her wand came off her forearm and ended point first in the mans chest. She guessed he was twice her age and knew he had zero shame. His collar pin held his family name, H, for Harrod.

"Touch me again I'll remove that hand. Do you understand?" Slowly the silence filled with speaking again. Crabb and Goyle moved immediately as she plopped down by Tom. Mary lounged sideways on the end of this couch on her other side. 

"If you didn't have someone, I'd suggest you just guaranteed your spinsterhood." Hermione grumbled. She didn't belong in this time. 

"But you could you know. We could change things." Tom glanced at her sideways after uttering such a low whisper. 

Hermione realized she never uttered anything to prompt such a strange response once she tried to sleep that night. 

Curfew was impossible to enforce before midnight with all the excitement. Hermione imagined that every Jane Austin book she read had an unwritten scene like this, with women reduced to dressing robes and scrubbing their faces. All of that made escaping a quiet dorm into the common room a strange site. 

Hermione had no issue breaking the social rules of perfection. She wanted to be free of these hair pins, not in her stifling cold room. 

Tom was distracted. 

"You don't have to answer the question, Tom. We get it. You like her."

Tom looked up at Abraxas as another pin clinked against the floor. 

"Her scar. It starts at her elbow and goes to her wrist." Hermione rotated her neck, back to Tom on the floor below him. Abraxus tried seeing the flash of silver scar from his adjacent chair. 

"Its probably a dumb suggestion, but you could ask her."

"Hermione, want to help me carry some glasses? We should celebrate tonight. Adults and all sort of."

Tom wasn't subtle as he glanced too often at her arm. He handed her a tray from the common room kitchen corner. "I assume you saw. You'll have to ask me directly."

"Hm."

They had detention with Dumbledor. He watched them both critically with his grading in front of him. "What word starts with an M, ends in a D, and is worthy of being branded?"

Hermione set her clean cauldron down. "Mudblood." She clenched her jaw. 

"But that's nothing. It's an empty jab." Tom didn't like the word, but it came up as a muttered insult. It wasn't strong enough to hurt, but made themselves feel better for a little while 

"People killed people over this word. There is nothing empty about that." Tom froze at her outburst. Dumbledor set his paper down.

"Sir, I've finished my half. Can I go?"

With approval, Hermione fled. 

'

"She hasn't spoken to me in a week. Next week there are exams. The week after we are coming with you."

"I swear to Merlin. Do not make my holiday a wreck because you two are fools."

Tom had to count reasons not to hex Abraxus. He would need him, supposedly. Abraxus raised his juice glass to Tom over the breakfast table. "Then it's settled. You'll talk to her tonight, after Quidditch practise. 

"Don't I get a choice in this?!" Abraxus was already out the door. 

-

"I'm not going Patricia. Its just a friendly."

Hermione tried to study on her bed. She wanted quiet.

"Ah ha! I see you've memorized his training schedule. Go. The man has been moody. Brax complained to me all week about it."

"He won't understand," Hermione almost wanted to panic. "It'll ruin whatever I'm trying to do here."

She was starting to forget the future. Everything she needed included Dumbledoor trusting her. 

"Fine. Have it your way."

Hermione and Tom realized that night that their spat hadn't gone unnoticed. Hermione went in search of more ink. Tom remembered the transfiguration essay due the next morning. 

The door locked behind them.

"Oh dammit-"

"Fuck-"

The darkness blinded both of them moments before their eyes adjusted. There wasn't much light to adjust to in the small closet. 

Hermione shuffled her way into Tom until he stopped her. 

His hands were warm and firm on her elbows. Hermione settled her hands on his hips just to not dangle them awkwardly. 

"Let me sit, and then you sit. They aren't letting us out anytime soon."

Later, she didn't know how much later, when she sat shoulder to shoulder with Tom, "We have magic," she reasoned. She had her wand on her. Yet she had no inkling to light up the dark closet. 

Tom held her hand with Interlocked fingers. 

"They stuffed a chair under the handle. I've watched this before."

"With who?"

"Patricia and Abraxus. Jokes on everyone else. Turned out better friends."

Hermione sighed. Tom remained still, as if with for an attack. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"Because you are a murdering, predatory psychopath from where I'm from." Hermione's gut lurched at her own words, but they just spilled out. "You told others to kill my kind."

Tom was far too controlled for Hermione's expectation.

"Well, he did kill my mother. I saw it in his head, he was going after me next."

"Did you make your horcrux?"

"Yes, surprisingly. It worked. His thoughts were also-"

"That was why, Tom," Hermione interrupted. "Why I'm mad that is. I didn't invite you into my head. I don't care that-"

"I can't control it Hermione. No one knows, so I can't practice."

Hermione gulped. Tom's shoulder made a good pillow.

"I don't trust you to abuse the privilege if I offer to help."

Tom shifted, so his knees bumped hers as he stood. He pulled her up to meet him. 

"I can ensure trust. Or my book source says it would. Do you want to try?"

Now Hermione decided lighting the room was appropriate. "What does it require?"

"Blood. And a knife."

Hermione didn't expect him to have a knife on him, let alone a muggle pocket knife. "Tom what the fuck?" Hermione screeched as her burned with pain. Tom hissed despite his own awareness. 

The shadow the lumos face cast a strangely twisted sneer on his features. "There has to be a better way," Hermione complained as their hands clasp. 

"Maybe, and I'll keep looking. But, Blood of my mine, and blood of yours, I will not intentionally go into your head without consent."

The strange shadow did stranger things to the plea on his face.

"You wont kill me or the few I call mine. What harms me will happen to you."

"You'll kiss me when your ready to admit you like me."

Hermione was speechless, bloody, and again blinded when the closet door finally opened. 

The bandage stopped getting bloody after a week. Magic wouldn't cure it, and when it did, scared silver. 

"Its strangely romantic I suppose," Calli marveled over a study night. "He hasn't been conventional so far in wooing you."

"He doesn't know how to 'woo' me. Things just happen."

"Mary, tell her your plan," the banana curled heiress looked between Hermione and Mary. "She came up with it after Slughorns party."

Mary set down her quill. "Uh, I hadn't quite finished the plan, but I was thinking we could learn to defend ourselves. Discreetly."

Hermione cocked her head. "What do you suggest?"

"Oh, Mary you aren't nearly excited enough by your own plan. Wandless and wordless magic Hermione. Please help us. You need to sell it to Dippett."

No one, including Tom, expected Hermione's failure. 

She met with Dippet on a Thursday night before they were to leave for hols, dressed the most appropriate she could imagine. 

Hermione's rage rolled off of her as she stormed back into the dungeon. Tom looked up from his arithmancy book briefly in confusion. 

"Hermione?"

"We need to talk," she said, dragging him by the hand. 

Patrica and Abraxus weren't explicitly banned from joining them in Tom's dorm, and quietly trailed behind them. Hermione pulled hair pins from her curls as Tom watched from the bed.

"Do you know where the room of requirement is yet?" Tom blinked, slowly. "Yes. Why?"

"We need a practise room. Because Dippett is a sexist moron who laughed off that butt grabbing, verbal abuse is an offense against a woman."

Hermione ranted more, revealing the depths of Dippetts opinions. He recommended the newest cure for hysteria and offered her a sick note. She told him to fuck off and had a detention when they got back from holiday. 

Patrica hid her smile behind her hand. Abraxus snorted. 

Tom wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her to him. Hermione settled on his lap with little complaint. 

"When you're done, I have a better solution. But, I do require a few more than the girls If you accept." Hermione stilled. Patrica moved around the corner of the poster bed, also interested. 

"There's a chamber, in the Hogwarts sewer room. We have to go through the girls bathroom on the first floor…"

Tragedy struck hogwarts before they could properly plan arrangements for the holidays.

Myrtle Elizabeth Warren died.

Hermione found Tom in the bathroom after she had cleaned up after a trial run of a wandless lesson within the sewer chamber below. 

"Did you kill her?" Hermione wanted to feel pure horror.

She horrified herself at own thoughts, recalling the forced niceness Tom practised on Myrtle had been a shameless flirting.

Flirting was nothing. It was words, and giggles, and then Tom smiled at the nonsense. 

Hermione's jealousy had thrown Calli over with laughter. One meal had made Hermione Granger insecure. 

"I didn't, actually. I wasn't ready yet."

Huh.

They really shouldn't be associated with this, Hermione reasoned. Logic would say she'd be fine, but Tom was a wild card. 

"She'll leave a ghost."

"So? What can I do about that?"

Early Moaning Myrtle would absolutely throw a wrench in Hermione's plans to get home.

"Cut her vocal cords. She might be able to speak with them."

-

Hermione didn't feel as bad as she anticipated as she packed one of her trunks. She needed a plan to survive this and to get to her own time. Plus, neither of them actually killed her. They just found the body. They were scarred (and doubted, at first) 4th years having a rendezvous in the girls bathroom.

"Really? You both found her?" 

Patrica met Hermione's face for the first time right before they all left.

"Yes. I've never been more certain. Concerned regardless, however. "

The dark haired slytherin snapped a wrinkle out of a dress. "Huh. But the rendezvous wasn't real? That was a cover, right?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes. He doesn't know about our Snakes Pit."

It was an unconscious decision to sleep on Tom on the way to Kings Cross. Names on the guest list flowed easily between Tom, Abraxus, and the others of their strange inner circle. 

"Don't charm the mistletoe, Abraxus. This will end poorly."

"Then kiss her."

"That's not part of the agreement. The library, however, would Madam and Chevalier Malfoy mind us using it?"

Hermione heard Abraxus smile in his voice. "I suspect that Mother would do anything Hermione politely requested."

Dinner in the Malfoy Manor was a nightly formal affair, Hermione learned. The eclectic estate of old, new, and decoration in process was endearing. Draco would have been horrified by it. 

"We are lucky to escape the ration cards. Thankfully we employ enough to take the exception." Both Madam and Sir Malfoy were beautiful people, but Sir Malfoy would in Magical London until they closed for the holidays. "Roxy is second house elf. She'll help you dress, Hermione."

The young house elf had been so excited Hermione couldn't get a word in edgewise. Shadow created the grand dining room into an intimate affair. Despite the instant warming Madam Malfoy had taken to her, Hermione stayed quiet. 

"Dear, are you okay? Is everything to your liking?"

The steely gaze seemed to go through Hermione's soul-or what was left of it after she accepted Tom Riddle into her life. "Its perfect. I'm not used to such wonderful food."

Tom squeezed her hand under the table.

"My son tells me you two are intended for one another." Both people in question froze. Hermione focused on the stain on the table cloth. Tom slowly turned his head towards Abraxus. 

The young heir had the grace to smile like an idiot. "Well," the madam continued, "It's only proper to wait for 7th year but if you need assistance then, please. I arranged the Parkinson wedding 2 decades ago…"

There was some social rule Hermione was breaking as she joined Abraxus and Tom in a sitting room, all in night robes. Hermione dismissed the human servant after her outrage and asked for Roxy, if they insisted on a chaperone. 

"Well look at you, speaking to my staff." Hermione rolled her eyes at Abraxus' tease. 

"It's bad enough from every other person, let alone someone who just met me. I'm done with that. I never realized Hogwarts was rationed."

Warm beverages and a fire pulled everyone to relaxation. Hermione reclined on a couch arm, picking at a tear. "We should talk about payment, Abraxus." She perked up at the change in Tom's tone. 

"For?" This seemed to be an expected question between the boys. 

"You assuming things between Hermione and I. And I have a suggestion." Abraxus darted his glance between his friends. "What do you think Hermione? Is a payment warranted?"

"Yes," she said shortly. "I suggested signing you up for the hufflepuff bake sale drive. His idea is kinder."

Abraxus stilled. Tom leaned in with a predatory gleam. "We need access to your restricted section. And you'll grant it to us."

Once granted, Hermione was either asleep for a few hours in her own room or in the fantastic forbidden library. 

Tom joined her only hours later. 

"Where did you get a jug of tea?"

"Coffee. I know it's barbaric, but so much more effective. And Roxy likes reading the kids books, so she wanted a "hot" beverage."

True to form, there was a small bookcase with a smattering of well read picture books nestled in a corner by the fireplace. 

"Is that our textbook? Transfiguration?" Hermione stretched her neck as she looked up at Tom.

"Dumbledor needs to be impressed, so I'm doing 5th year and NEWT practise essays. He has a time turner, so he is useful to have for us."

Tom grunted. This year he had been better towards Tom, but third year had been rough. 

"I'm looking for something to. It's between a portkey and a time turner, and presumably as forbidden."

"Tomorrow I'm going to get the gossip papers. Want to come?"

Tom poured himself of the bitter beverage, drinking with a grimace. "Maybe. If not Abraxus would be willing to escort you." He started planning where to start in the shelves. He needed his paper, a new ink pot,...

"...do I need-?" He realized Hermione was speaking to him.

"I'm sorry. I started planning. What did you say?"

Hermione huffed. "I'm perfectly capable of traveling alone."

"You are." Tom paused. Feelings and confusion about putting those feelings into words didnt come easily to him. He already had enemies. 

"But I'd rather you go with someone who has had more than a few weeks worth of dueling under their belt. Not everyone accepts me like you do."

He kissed her hair with a short shudder, like he didn't know what he was doing. Tom disappeared into the stacks. 

Abraxus sauntered around magical London like he already owned it.

"Its already in process. The estate, parlemant seat, and winzamot appoint is designated to me alone." Hermione had yet to meet the elder Malfoy. Reports were that he was a piece of work to witches like her.

"You don't see him alot, do you."

Abraxus shrugged. "I don't really need to. I have mother. Theres a directory of purebloods in the library. Why do you need these?"

"I need information on a family, beyond a family tree."

Malfoy looked at her sideways. Hermione didn't offer a name. 

"You really do have an arrangement with Tom." Hermione nodded. "Are you..okay?"

She laughed, despite valid reasons to suppress it. "Yes, for once. I'm safer than nearly anyone else right now."

They were one news stand away from being able to leave when Hermione regretted her confidence. A stinging hex hit her chest as she doubled over in pain. 

"Crucio!" Hermione fell into the snow on hands and knees.

"What is going on?! Protego!" Hermione saw a rough, ragged man in a strangely well fit suit come from the shop behind her. Abraxus stumbled at her to roll her on her back. 

"Mr. Borkin, can I use your floo?"

The man grunted. "Yea, go kid. I'm visiting later."

"Abraxus! What happened? Tom fell down the stairs, the healer-"

Abraxus adjusted Hermione in his arms. "Damn it. Where? I'm sorry Mother-"

"We'll talk about it later." Hermione heard the mom tone in her waves of pain, and strange abstract visions created by the floo. Bellatrix Lestrange's voice echoed in her ears.

"Yes mother. I'm sorry."

She jostled up the stairs. Hermione made sense of things slowly. Abraxus kept swearing under his breath. Tom gritted out his muffled words.

"Breathe it out. Breathe in, breathe out. You'll live through this, breathe…"

The voice wasn't familiar, yet oddly comforting. 

She braced for cold brick walls as she well-made opened her eyes to a richly painted ceiling in Malfoy Manor.

Hermione wasn't alone on the bed. "I'm warm," she announced as she shot up. Tom's cold hands trailed down her arms to assist, and her cardigan came off with it. 

The boys and Madam Malfoy's eyes immediately fell on the jagged, silver, mudblood.

Hermione woke up in Tom's bed, redressed in a robe. He sat in a chair by his fire. The brace on his leg made a weird shadow. 

"I can hear you. How are you feeling?"

Hermione suppressed the phantom pain as she stood. "Fine. Better than you." He shook the skelegrow potion. 

"I'll be fine by morning." Hermione sat across from him.

"Do they hate me?"

Tom set down his book. "The opposite, actually. Pretty sure Sir Malfoy is petitioning a defamation of minors law. Abraxus is thinking of using it for his internship project."

He shuffled his leg with an uncomfortable grunt. "Does it change your mind?"

"About killing Bellatrix Lestrange, from the Noble house of Black? No. Her death will solve lots of problems."

Hermione and Tom were back in the library days up until the holiday preparation. The realization that Hermione wanted to kill a possible child was far different from actually planning it. It made her feel strange. 

She left behind no less than 10 major families willing to support her in the name of the Dark Lord. How much had already changed just by these months in the 40s was also a looming question.

"Tom, what do you want out of all this?"

Tom weighed his answer before he said it. He scribbled notes as he spoke. "Knowledge. And power. And the knowledge to get the power to live forever." Hermione expected something like this. 

"Or teaching. A proper DADA department could change the world."

Hermione smiled. 

"Hermione?" Tom looked up in confusion. She leaned over him quickly, taking his face in her hands. She kissed him with all the hope she still had left, and joy that it was sustainable. 

Tom kissed back until he needed air.

"Pretty sure I was supposed to do that," he whispered. "I'm bad with illogical rules. I have a surprise for us."

Tom followed her to a bookshelf, where she pulled off an otherwise mundane book. Hermione pulled out a large folded map. "It's

alive. sort of. It can find people in Hogwarts. As long as I keep the proper building marks I can-umpf!"

Hermione let Tom press her against the books. Her dress bunched in his hands around her hips as he kissed her desperately. He pressed his face against hers and spoke in her ear. "You are brilliant. And mine. And I am taking you wherever I go."

Hermione found Druella Rosier as she announced her engagement at Christmas to Cygnus Black III. She thanked her previously useless memorization of wizard family trees that she even put two and two together. They were like british muggle royalty. 

By New Years, Hermione made it a point to befriend the older girl. Tom and Abraxus played along for different reasons, Tom's more sinister than Abraxus'. 

Abraxus and his mother used every chance to let the friendship grow between them. She was a pretty blond almost woman, curvier than the average. The age difference within their union shocked Hermione. 

"Oh, it's normal among us." Hermione blinked at her with a polite smile. "Er, I know you and Tom are from unfortunate backgrounds. But you have each other to support you. You aren't wearing the same thing to New Years as you wore this Christmas, right?" The aristocratic horror entertained Hermione until she was stabbed with pins in the name of a "new" gown.

Hermione sat while Roxy did her hair. The doting house elf forced her head to be perfectly straight more than once. Druella waited, already perfect. 

"I could have brought mine. Yours is lovely'"

"Missus has crazy hair. Never done it before. Stop moving!"

Hermione laughed, earned a light smack from the elf. "She hasn't failed me yet. There's a little time. Are you okay?"

The young aristocrat kept clutching her middle. "Cygnus is impatient. Was impatient. Said he needs proof before we see minister."

Hermione felt that the woman wanted to talk.

"Honestly? I'll never see you again once I get my title. And even if you aren't particularly important." Hermione huffed. Roxy smacked her again."I'm worried I'm with child already."

Hermione insisted on impropriety with Tom before they were to join the announcement que. 

"You're risking gossip, darling."

She shut the door with a 'click'. "It'll be worth it." Hermione adjusted Tom's tie. His hands slid up and down her bodice, eyes drawn to more skin that Hermione had willingly ever showed. 

"Pay attention. I have a workaround her social status." Tom stilled his hands. "Yes. I'm listening."

"She might be pregnant with the Mad Witch now. And I doubt, no, know that miscarriage is prominent." Tom cocked his head. "What would you do if I was pregnant and we didn't want it?"

That night, Tom learned he had no idea how to work around a corset. 

Hermione was packing her trunk the night before they were due back at Hogwarts.

It became a game for them to try whatever they could before speaking to Madam Reily. Tom enjoyed scaring her, pushing as far as he could convince her was a good idea. He came in with a purposely loud door shut and a greeting. His breath was warm against her ear. 

"I found something." Tom shook a paper packet in front of her. Hermione took it with both hands and spun from his hands. "It goes in tea."

Hermione thought a good minute before what she was about to do. "I think she's staying til tomorrow. I-..will be back."

Tom felt the bed shift later, wrapping his arms around her as they fell back asleep. Briefly, he wondered if he broke his witch.

The holiday break was enough time to forget Myrtle. It wasn't enough time for Hermione to feel prepared to approach Dumbledor, but she did it anyways the days before class officially started.

Hermione approached the men's teaching lounge as the secretary suggested. She couldn't go in, but she could knock. 

"That strumpet already asked me about the final project. Dippett, why haven't you sent her back to France already?"

"Who, Rummage? Ms. Granger?"

"Of course. Which other female upstart would there be. She doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut. Father must not have beat her into her place."

"Your nephew will be eligible next year for the Potions newt, regardless. She has ideals to keep her warm. Did you know she wanted me to do something about Advisor Harred?" Dippet snorted.

Dippet snorted.

The arithmancy professor guffawed. "Sure you did not oblige her. He did nothing wrong. She'd be so lucky to be his bed warmer."

"Of course not. Someone has to teach her her place. She intends to place in the 2%. If she succeeds, she'll never learn."

"Learn to be a cockwarmer? Pretty sure we'd have a few volunteers. Pretty little thing, when quiet." The third voice, and a handful of other silent men burst out in laughter. 

Tears started falling before Hermione could stop them. She turned on her heel away before she could hear anymore. 

"Ms. Granger? Can I help you?"

Dumbledor called her as he approached the lounge from the other hall. 

"Uh, yes." She hiccupped and hated herself. "But not now. Can I make an appointment? I'd like to discuss a project with you."

Dumbledors concerned face betrayed his professional nonchalance stance. "Of course. Tomorrow? 11?" Hermione nodded and hurried away before she could make a bigger fool of herself.

Hermione's entrance into the slytherin common room was too loud for her pride. She wanted to be angry, to have a plan.

Her anger was side tracked by the babble of a toddler. Anger still etched itself in her face but Tom noticed. He'd ask later.

"Did Crabbe forget how to speak again?" Tom laughed. "Yes, but that's a kid. Specifically an heir to the Kent Lineage."

Mary came down from the dorms to greet-Mary?

"Hermione, you haven't met yet. This is Lady Elizabeth of Kent. We're twins, before you ask." They all caught up like old friends- just one of them had a baby.

Everyone was allowed to listen so they heard the boring reality of an exiled Duke and his very quick marriage to a very young bride. 

"She's been married less than a year," Hermione murmured. Calli nodded. "And her son is 1 and a half. You do the math." Hermione drifted in and out of the room, pacing her repressed anger. A portrait came of the older duke. Blonde. Unpleasant. 

The kid had black hair.

"Why did you leave last year? You'll never graduate," Another girl a Ravenclaw pureblood, broke into the conversation. 

The awkward silence and stammered excuses placated her, but it was an obvious lie. Elizabeth got pregnant at Hogwarts. 

And judging how she wasn't the first unexpected mother, but the first to be socially banished, Hermione could only assume someone significant. Like the sexist arithmacy professor who believed women didn't need numbers and served best in the carnal ways. 

Lady Elizabeth left with her maid.

Hermione lost her semblance of control.

"What happened?" His tone was gentle, but his eyes darkened with all the possibilities they could have been.

"Rummage is a pig and hates that his idiot son is an idiot." Hermione hiccuped. "Dippett thinks I need to learn my place." She heaved and sighed before the final piece. "Apparently I'd be a pretty little 'cockwarmer' if I kept my mouth occupied elsewhere."

Tom smoothed her hair as he looked onto the shocked faces of their friends and the occasional early comer like themselves. Abraxus leaned against the wall with a clenched jaw. Mary and Patricia couldn't look at each other.

"This isn't the first time you've heard this, is it girls?" Patricia nodded at her hands. "No," Mary gritted out. "And it wont be the last, not with those men in charge."

"Mary, to dinner? We can bring them back a plate." Abraxus broke Mary out of her hypnotizing glare towards the floor. "Yes. We shall need it to increase our duel practices, yes? In the evenings until classes properly start?"

Hermione nodded, still clinging to Tom. He picked up on Hermione's thoughts as she imagined painful cries of those awful men as they fell to their knees. Hermione would be mad he read her thoughts, but she'd be happy with the end result, Tom rationalized.

He still needed two fresh bodies after all. 

-

"Miss Granger, what can I do for you? Tea? Biscuit?"

Hermione steeled her resolve. She heard the murmurs about the girls. Every one of them was more devoted to their self defense skills than ever before.

It has leaked into the halls that unwanted touches resulted in hexes now. The first one had been so confused they didnt hear the girl go to the nearest professor. 

"I did not invite this gentleman to touch me, sir."

Luckily it was Dumbledor. Lucky for the 1st year, Hermione gave him a glance, reminding what exactly she had overheard. The detention was the first of many. 

"To be straightforward, sir, I understand that very few students make your advanced transfiguration class. Fewer still, the number of women. I'd like to be one of them."

Dumbledor said nothing for the longest time. Hermione refused to fidget. He sipped his tea. She nibbled on a biscuit. 

"What level did you test as upon your transfer?"

"Fifth year."

More tea, and another biscuit. 

"Why my advanced class? Why not Potions? It's your highest marks."

"I already know what I can do for my expected year. My home economics class took your only open class and home economics is a required course."

Dumbledor chucked at her tone. She had never been shy about her distaste for the class. 

"You'll need a partner. This is a pass or fail project. How do you feel about that?"

-

"Tom, we need to talk." She caught him on the way to quidditch, practically one foot in the men's locker room. 

"I-"

"Please. I need to give an answer to Dumbledor today."

Tom looked over a few of the team that tried to wait for him. "Abraxus, choose the strategy. It'll only be a minute."

Number 10 took his bag with a glance over to Hermione. She stared back until he left. 

"I thought him giving you a chance would improve your mood."

"It did," Hermione smiled. "But it's a complicated project." Tom waited for her to continue. "He wants to bring a statue to life, a phoenix. It requires souls."

"From what source?"

"A life elixir. It means liquid to a solid, a different weight-" Tom's eyes lit up. "Yes."

Hermione didn't hear him at first. "I know its theoretically impossible-wait, what?"

"Yes. I will help you." Hermione let out a squeak and pulled Tom down closer to her. 

Several team members hollered as she kissed him, and shooed him back to practise. 

Those slytherins came limping back into the common room with broad, sly smiles to Hermione. Number 10, Bathgate, leaned over her newly rented book tower. "Keep goin' lass. He might not be a total terror as a prefect."

Everything else took a backseat for Hermione. The third triwizard tournament conveniently required large numbers of unique potions that Hermione qualified for. Mary also joined her, the top woman and top 5th student within the 4th year. 

The quidditch teams had their own contribution, so Tom and Hermione only saw each other at meals, study hours, and in Albus Dumbledor's transfiguration lab. 

It made him strangely clingy. Hermione didn't mind as he pulled her into a closet and fished beneath her skirt when he was particularly stressed. She got plenty out of it and moreso, the rush of breaking the occasional school rule. 

Most of them were stupid and backwards, or ineffective at best. She counted down until Tom finalized his plan, and her part, in their professional demise. There was no respect for rules that disrespected her. 

The death of Rummage and Dippett came as a surprise to the board of education in January. The girls of Hogwarts held a gathering to properly mourn in private and clink drinks late into the night. 

She learned that sometimes the muggle concept of murder had practical uses in the wizarding world. Dippetts death liberated his soul so Tom could catch it in the potion Dumbledor kindly provided. 

The other was kept in a jar, for an unspecified project Tom was researching. 

Dumbledor didn't ask where Tom and Hermione acquired souls from. The old wizard assigned them this with the idea that two students wouldn't have the capacity to do so regardless of the moral issues. 

The transfer between the elixir and Fawkes took two full moons and a specific to-do list, once they had souls. The actual energy required made them miss classes. 

The joy of doing the "impossible" did not overshadow the lack of time turner in Dumbledors possession. 

"I could make a life here, Tom, but I don't want to." He kissed the top of her head with muddled feelings. 

That little bauble she traveled with was still in his trunk. It required blood, he realized as he time skipped a week by accident. It was risky. 

He had experimentation to do. 

The year came to a close at Malfoy Manor. They would stay for the summer solstice. It was beautiful and calm in the gardens. Tom wrapped his arms around her. Everyone congratulated them on making Prefects.

But Hermione couldn't forget about Abraxus and Mary. 

"They love each other." Tom nodded in agreement. 

"But he would never get approval from their uncle."

"He has tried?" She looked up from her reclined position against Tom. 

"No. He's afraid of failure. I understand that." The last admittance came out in a whisper.

Hermione sat up, and faced him. "What's wrong?"

The ornament felt heavy in his pocket. "I have something to show you." 

They all insisted on coming out to the solstice ritual site with them. It was beautiful and full of magic. Tom couldn't get them away, so he carried on without noticing.

"This was with you when you arrived."

Hermione picked up the gold banded, crystal icicle. "Yeah. I wondered if it got me here somehow."

"It did, and it required blood. Do you remember?" She nodded.

The dagger slicing through her palm, again, made her cry out. "I can send you home. Right now." Tom took her hand, and opened a locket from his pocket. It felt strange to her. Her blood mingled with his inside as he clicked it shut. 

"Hermione, are you okay?" Mary called out, coming into the circle. This was a special place, Hermione read. Wishes came true here. Abraxus followed, but the others stayed back.

"Yes." Hermione was going home."But you two aren't. You've loved each other since I've met you, and I wish to all the magic right now in this space that you can be together. If you also wish it."

Abraxus looked at Mary, then looked away. Mary took his hand. "I do. I really do."

Abraxus smiled. "I'd love to love you Mary, one day, properly. "

Elated, Hermione glanced back at Tom.

"I wish this could work for us Tom. But I don't know how." Tom crushed her to him. "Don't worry love. I'll find a way."

He spun the gold band the forest disappeared around her.

-

"Minister, it will be fine. Keep breathing. Healer Johnson, Karl- what are you doing here Lord Malfoy? You don't work here anymore."

"And you wont work here either if Minister Riddle thinks you're endangering the Minister of Magic. Move yourself instead. Suture kit! Suction!"

Hermione tried speaking, but realized breathing was her problem. The suffocating nature of her time travel smothered her into a panic as she compared her current conundrum to her return to her proper time.

Everything hurt, especially breathing. The St. Mungos bed was as exactly uncomfortable as she remembered, and her tight skirted formal robes constructed her entire body. 

Magical soothing waves washed over her as darkness pushed her under once again.

-

"How'd they get so close Tom? You promised she would have an Auror detail after the last assasination attempt." Tom had the grace to sound ashamed under his imperial tone. It was a useful tone that created drive in his supporters and fear in his enemies as the Minister of Education. In the waiting room, he imagined that this was what parents called "healthy shaming".

He had earned that title after teaching DADA at Hogwarts immediately after 7th year. Rather, his ' Grandfather's excellent tutoring', got him all the tools he needed to become the second magical minister to the Wizarding Prime Minister under the age of 40. 

Hermione was the first. She defeated the fragile, monstrous shell of the snake faced Voldemort by the most unorthodox distraction by jumping on him as a child. Harry stabbed through both the dark lord and Hermione, by accident. 

Tom Riddle Jr. was in the crowd to save her. Her french summer fling saved her life, the one she met on her her half blooded family vacation. 

"Honey," Mrs. Granger, coolly chastised. "She is in the best hands possible. You know she's been trying to avoid Auror Crabbe and Goyle ever since the Prime Minister approved the protection order."

Despite Jane Granger's voice, the current heir to the most Honored House of Granger knitted frantically in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. She didn't maintain the personal healer position to the prime minister by panicking after all. 

"She took Delphini with her this morning. I should have insisted she didnt." It was rare that Minister Riddle expressed remorse. When he did it often included his 'better half' and their child. "We all thought Pettigrew was incapacitated in Azkaban, Riddle," Head Auror Potter and Ginny Potter announced his presence. The worry was etched on their faces. "He's on the run, but not for long."

The waiting room was crowded with staff, security, and a handful of loyal families who had also been at the public awareness meeting where the latest assassination happened. Immediate family aside, Lady Pansy Parkison-Malfoy, their two children, played with the dark, curly haired Delphini. She never cried. Tom kept thinking soothing thoughts at his legitimen gifted daughter. 

"Minister Riddle, your wife wants you."

Every appropriate emotion burst from the waiting room. Except Tom.

Tom chuckled. "I recommend you not tell her you said that, Healer. Was there anything poisoned on the knife this time?"

-

Strange images flitted through Hermione's mind as she came to. Her periwinkle ball gown wet from snow was nothing compared to the crushing sensation from actually falling from Gryffindor tower. She snuck out of the healers wing to watch the final triwizard tournament maze, playing with the locket around her neck. Hermione was hollow and simultaneously too full, and yet had no desire to remove (nor destroy) the source. If Tom was accurate, her soul was also in that locket. 

She stepped foot in the stands and knew something was wrong. Harry appeared in the center of the crowd, grappling the monstrous dark lord. Hermione had no plan as the Dark Lord rendered all magic useless. Everyone else panicked. Hermione jumped. 

The rest was rewarded with a medal and another, human, Tom Riddle sweeping in to save the day. The newest owner of the Sorcerer's Stone knew exactly what was wrong with her as she fought to stay in the mortal realm. The same sword meant to honor the triwizard winner was her (and Tom's) potential death.

Van Buren volunteered to help Hermione destroy the sword and died in the process. 

Hermione graduated Hogwarts with Head Girl and Prefect badges. The ministry wanted Hermione with her skills and lineage, and Hermione didn't intend to disappoint them.

It had taken Tom Riddle 5 years to get a proper date out of her. 

Now it was Tom's face above hers that she looked forward to most. 

"Darling. You survived another one." Hermione groaned. She leaned into his warmth. The locket she sought out on her neck was safely hidden in their vault. 

"Please tell me Pettigrew will actually die from this."

"He's screaming in our manor, my love."

Hermione relaxed against the cool sheets. She always requested special sheets in St. Mungos. The others were too scratchy. 

"Delphi?"

"With Pansy."

"Tom?"

"Yes?" He wanted her to marry him. It was in his top 5 current goals. Muggle movies said this happened around near death experiences. 

"How did you find me again? Way back when?"

Tom let out his breath. Another time for a proposal then. Maybe Christmas.

"I did say you were mine, didn't I? I never let go of what's mine."


End file.
